Doors and Rain
by Mystifying Fog
Summary: Dean liked to sleep with his door open. [One-shot]


**A/N: I have no idea where the adorable piece of fanart in my cover image came from, as I got it from Google.**

Dean liked to sleep with his door open.

He didn't know why; he always figured that a closed door would make himself feel safer. Maybe he thought if someone broke in, he wouldn't be able to hear it if his door was shut. On the other hand, maybe he just wanted to make sure Sam knew he could always come to him in the middle of the night if he needed to. Or anyone in the bunker, for that matter. "My door's always open," Dean would say.

Regardless, there was one particular night that Dean was especially glad that he slept with his door open. It was Castiel's first night in the bunker (not including the few hours he was there after the incident with April). Sam had finally found out about Ezekiel, and the angel was no longer possessing him. While he wasn't in perfect shape, Sam was doing okay. However, he was currently pissed off at Dean for keeping the whole thing a secret — so Dean decided to leave him alone for the time being. Both Sam and Castiel were in their respective rooms, while Dean was lying awake in his, staring at the ceiling.

He was lost in thought at the events that had transpired earlier that day — his argument with Sam, mainly — when Dean suddenly heard a door slam from somewhere down the hallway.

"Sam?" Dean called. Yes, he'd agreed to let Sam do his own thing for a while, but he was still worried about his little brother. When there was no response, Dean looked at the clock by his bed. 3:41 AM. He had two options: either stay in his room and ignore what had just happened, or go see if Sam was okay. After a couple of minutes, he decided on the second choice.

Dean threw on some more decent clothes and walked down the hallway, trying his best to be quiet so as to not wake anyone else up. He reached Sam's bedroom door. He almost knocked, but then remembered that if the door slammed, he was most likely no longer in his room. Dean continued on, looking around in the main room, which he found was empty. He was about to turn around and go back to check Sam's bedroom, when he noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. So, Sam had gone outside.

He went up the stairs, opened the door, and looked outside. It was raining buckets. He scanned the immediate area for any sign of Sam, and was about to go back inside and close the door — when he spotted a figure several yards away, sitting in the grass that was almost certainly muddy with his knees pulled up to his chest.

Dean walked outside and shut the door behind him. He approached the figure. Since it was dark, he couldn't see much besides the general shape of the person he assumed to be his brother, but as he got closer, he realized it wasn't Sam — it was Castiel.

"Cas?" Dean said when he was only a couple of feet away from him. In response, Castiel simply looked up at him. Dean noticed how soaking wet he was just from being outside for less than five minutes. His clothes were already completely drenched, and his hair was sticking to his face, which was also wet. The expression on Castiel's face suggested that he had been crying, but Dean couldn't tell whether the drops on his face were from the rain or from his eyes.

Dean crouched in front of Castiel, who had now buried his face between his legs again. "Hey," he tried again. "Are you okay?"

Castiel mumbled something incoherently as a reply. "What?" Dean asked.

"I said, it was all my fault," Castiel repeated, louder and more clearly.

"What was?" Dean questioned.

"Everything," Castiel answered. "The angels falling..."

"You're still beating yourself up over that? Look, it wasn't your fault —"

Castiel cut him off. "Yes, it was."

"No — Cas, look at me," Dean said. Castiel didn't look up, and continued sobbing. "Hey," Dean said, gently taking the sides of his face. Castiel finally looked at him with an expression Dean never wanted to see again — full of sadness, sorrow, guilt. "It was not your fault, Cas," Dean reassured. "Okay? It was _not_ your fault."

Castiel didn't say anything as a tear fell from his eye, which Dean promptly wiped away with his thumb, as his hands were still on his face. Castiel couldn't help but smile a little as the two men locked eyes. Dean returned the small smile as he let go of his face, and moved to sit next to him. He wrapped his arm around Castiel's shoulders, and Castiel placed his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean looked down at him. "You are going to be fine."

Dean absentmindedly dropped a kiss to the top of Castiel's head before placing his own head on top of it. They sat like that for an unknown amount of time, but couldn't have been more than three minutes, before Dean remembered exactly where they were sitting: in front of the bunker, in the mud, in the pouring rain, in the middle of the night. Not to mention, it was really cold outside; Dean thought it could easily be below freezing.

He pulled away from Castiel, who looked up at him with questioning eyes. Dean stood up, and held out a hand for Castiel to take. He did so, and stood up. "It's freezing out here; we should probably go back inside," Dean explained, and the two drenched men headed back toward the bunker. They went inside, and Dean closed the front door behind them. "Come on, I have some towels in my room. I'll lend you some clothes, too." Castiel silently agreed, and followed Dean to his bedroom.

He grabbed two towels and a set of clothes out of his dresser and handed them to Castiel. "Here; take these, and go in the bathroom to change." Castiel simply nodded in response, and headed back out. Since Dean was soaked as well, he grabbed a couple more towels and another change of clothes, and began to dry himself off as well.

When he was no longer sopping wet and in a t-shirt and boxers, Dean was about to climb back into bed. However, he noticed a similarly dry Castiel walking out of the bathroom across the hallway, moping along toward his own room. Dean felt bad, and he wasn't entirely sure why, but he knew what he wanted to do.

"Cas," Dean called after him quietly. He turned around. "Come here." Castiel did so, and stopped in front of him, tilting his head slightly to show that he didn't understand. "Look, it's almost four in the morning. I'm guessing you couldn't sleep?"

Castiel nodded, and looked down, almost as if he felt ashamed of himself. "Why don't you sleep in here for tonight," Dean offered. "If it'll make you feel better."

Castiel looked back up, establishing eye contact once more. "Okay," he said, almost too quiet for Dean to hear. He ushered Castiel into his room, and the two of them climbed into Dean's bed. Castiel scooted over until he was laying as close to the edge of the bed as possible, his back turned to Dean.

"Cas," Dean said quietly. Castiel looked over his shoulder. "Don't do that. Come here." After hesitating for a brief moment, Castiel rolled over, and scooted closer to Dean, who met him in the middle of the bed. He wrapped his arms around the ex-angel, and began to stroke his hair soothingly. "Sleep now," Dean persuaded, and Castiel did, Dean following shortly thereafter.

That was the first night of many to come that Dean would sleep with his door closed.

**A/N: What?! I wrote a ficlet where no one died?! WHAT IS HAPPENING**


End file.
